


Delirium

by kagakuninjatai



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Closeted Character, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, just enough of a divergence to make these two get together, live fast die young sad gays do it well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:30:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagakuninjatai/pseuds/kagakuninjatai
Summary: No VR mission could prepare him for this.(Following the MGS2 storyline but not quite)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im scared of this fic but im giving it a go bc im gay and i love these boys so much

It hurt to breathe.

The skull suit had constricted, staunching the blood flowing from the wounds in his torso. It was a relief, not having to waste precious time stitching and bandaging wounds but _god_ … Raiden took a slow breath in through his diaphragm, testing just how far the suit would stretch but not being able to take in as much air as he usually could. The tightness of his chest was beginning to make him feel anxious.

The mission was not going to plan.

There were too many things left out of the briefing.

Campbell had brought Rose in.

What else was there that they were not telling him?

He could not remember why the date was so important for Rosemary and it was stressing him out. She was so good at remembering those kinds of things: dates, locations, events… Every memory was so important to her. He would never remember those kinds of things, but he wondered whether his memory was just awful or whether it was because he did not care anymore.

That stupid argument about the skyscrapers was something she would bring up and giggle about regularly, causing him to roll his eyes when he used to chuckle with her.  She had found him on base and asked him out, to prove him wrong, and Raiden had told Rose yes. He just had not known what else to do. He had never noticed her at the base before, so focussed on his training, and even then she was not exactly his… Type. Today he cursed himself. He should have been straight with her from the start, that he was not. Straight, that is. But he still had that voice in the back of his head, doubting everything he was, and he had never dated anyone, never even had a one night stand, so maybe, MAYBE, he might be straight and he was lying. So he would go out with Rosemary and just… See what it was like.

She was wonderful. A beautiful, charming woman with a contagious laugh and bright, sparkling eyes that glittered whenever she spoke of a future together. Raiden would smile back and grasp her hand in his, but there was always a nagging feeling in his stomach that things were just not right. She did not deserve this, to be lied to for so long. Every time he stirred up the courage to finally talk to her, to break it off, the voice in his head would chime in.

_Broken._

_Weak._

_There will be no one else._

_Who else would love you like this._

_You don’t even know who you are._

So he stayed. His smiles felt fake. His laughter was hollow.

It had been two years now and the lie was eating him alive.

He called to save his position and Rose chirped happily about organising his homecoming dinner, a lovely homecooked meal. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Her joyful tone dropped and he cringed.

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

_Stupid._

He tried to backpedal but knew with every word he was digging his own grave. She sighed and told him she understood, that it was his dinner, so his choice, and signed off.

_Idiot._

Stepping softly through the door of the transformer room on Strut B, Raiden stopped suddenly when he sniffed the acrid, metallic smell of blood. The flickering lights reflected off the splashes smothering the walls and the puddles of viscous red liquid seemed to grow larger as he edged silently past.

_What happened here?_

Suddenly he hears a strangled yell, followed by rapid gunfire that ends as quickly as it had begun. Taking a deep breath, he steps into the room, M9 drawn and ready to fire. His eyes shifted to the bodies lying on the floor. Slowly moving further into the room, a slow sickening slurping sound reaches his ear. He peaks his head around his cover and gasps. Down below the platform, a dark man grips a corpse and the slurping grows louder. Raiden grits his teeth and steps forward.

The sound stops and the man in the trenchcoat turns his head slowly. His eyes are a harsh grey, his moustachioed mouth dripping with blood. The man lets out a blood-curdling hiss and drops the corpse, which lands with a bone-crunching thud.

Tightening his grip on the M9, Raiden whispers. “What are you?”

The man sneers and flourishes a bowie knife.  “Five today…” He says as he drags the knife across his chest. Raiden notices that there are four fresh cuts below the more recent one. “Or rather… Six?”

Their eyes lock as the man launches himself into the air, knife in hand. Raiden freezes as he hears the man’s boots thump on the grating behind him.

He cannot move.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

“GET DOWN!”

Automatic gunfire ricochets around the room as Raiden throws himself to the floor. As the bullets cease, he looks back to where the man had been. He hears the quiet footsteps of the man with the gun step into the room through the lower door and snaps his head back. The man is dressed in tactical gear, balaclava over his face, radio headset over his ears.

_Looks like one of the Seals._

“Where is he?” The man asks gruffly, his eyes continuing to trace the dark edges of the room.

Swiftly, the bloody attacker drops from the ceiling and disarms the gunman. Raiden dives for the weapon and rolls into position, immediately training it on the men. He knows he is hesitating, and they do to. The bloody man grabs the gunman by the skull and slams him into the wall, snarling. The bloody man moves closer to the gunman, muttering something Raiden cannot hear, and then throws the gunman to the ground.

“Shoot him!” The gunman calls out from the floor. “What are you waiting for!?”

Raiden obliges, squeezing the trigger and releasing a barrage of bullets towards the bloody man. The gun clicks. He curses. None of them hit, and now he is out of bullets. The bloody man moves his knife towards his chest and begins to move elegantly towards him but stops abruptly. Raiden can feel his heart beating in his throat. He notices the gunman moving out of the corner of his eye and turns. The metallic scraping of a fresh magazine sliding along the ground draws his attention, and he knows the bloody man heard it as well. Raiden snatches it off the floor, quickly slamming it into the assault rifle. He hears the bloody man yell, as well as the crashing sound of a body landing on metal, and tries to find him, flurrying the gun around in what he would definitely not describe as a bit of a panic. Then there was nothing.

He let out the breath he did not know he was holding.  


	2. Chapter 2

The gunman moved to sit up and Raiden swung the gun back, aiming straight at his face. He gripped the assault rifle tightly, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

“Hold on.” The gunman held up a hand in front of his face. “I’m not an enemy, calm down.”

Grunting with the effort, the man dragged himself over to lean on the metal mesh. Raiden kept the gun trained on him, eyes narrowed.

The man huffed a sigh. “My name is Pliskin. Iroquois Pliskin.” He began. “Lieutenant, Junior Grade.”

The man – Pliskin – reached a hand under the balaclava and pulled it over his head.

Raiden’s eyes widened and his grip on the assault rifle loosened.

Pliskin was younger than he sounded. Tawny coloured stubble covered his chiselled jaw, accentuating the fullness of his lips. High cheekbones framed the thick bridge of his nose. Strong close-knit brows sat above his closed eyes. Sweaty caramel-coloured bangs stuck to his forehead in a mess of static along with the rest of his mid-length hair. His icy blue eyes flutter open and move to focus on Raiden.

“Are- Are you a Navy Seal?” Raiden asks, cringing internally at the stutter. He fidgets with the assault rifle in his hands.

Pliskin does not answer him, his eyes moving back to the wall in front of him. His jaw tightens.

Raiden takes a step forward, keeping the gun raised. “How did you get in?” He demands.

Pliskin blinks slowly and turns his piercing gaze back to Raiden. Lowering his head, he replies. “Fast rope descent via Navy chopper.”

Movement attracts Raiden’s keen eyes and he spots one of the weird sea mites from below deck scurry out from Pliskin’s gear and scuttle under a nearby storage container. His eyes widen. More lies.

He grits his teeth. “Have I seen you before?”

Plisken lifts his head. Raiden watches as the man’s eyes rake his body. There was something about how the other man’s slow gaze travelled up his body that sent a strange shiver down Raiden’s spine. He stifled the feeling quickly, but it left the sensation of butterflies flittering around in his stomach. It was like the feeling he got when his anxiety was starting to get the better of him, but this time it felt different. Weird.

“That suit…” Pliskin drawled, eyes shifting slowly from Raiden’s torso to meet the other man’s eyes. “Are you FOXHOUND?”

Raiden opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. Pressing his lips together, he answers cautiously, “That’s right.”

Pliskin looks down at his lap, and Raiden notices the wound on his arm is still seeping blood.

“FOXHOUND was disbanded.” Pliskin says matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“Where were you before FOXHOUND?” He continues. Raiden tightens the grip on the gun. “Delta Force?”

They glare at each other for a while before Raiden answers.

“I was part of the Force 21 trials.”

“Force 21? That’s about tactical IT deployment, right?” Pliskin furrows his brows. “Any field experience?”

Raiden hesitates. “No. Not really…”

Pliskin sighs. “So this is your first….”

“Hey I’ve had plenty of training! The kind that’s indistinguishable from the real thing!”

“Yeah, like what?” Pliskin counters.

_You’re not a real soldier._

Raiden swallows. “Sneaking mission 60. Weapons 80. Advanced-“

“VR, huh.”

“Indistinguishable from the real thing.” Raiden repeats firmly. “It’s realistic in every way.”

“A virtual grunt from the digital age.” Pliskin grumbles, turning his face away from Raiden. “That’s just great.”

Raiden goes to defend his training once more but Pliskin stops him before he can start. “They want to remove you from the battle situations, make you see war as a video game. What better way to raise the ultimate soldier.”

Raiden steps closer to him and hands Pliskin back the assault rifle. He takes it from his hand without a word.

Raiden glares at him, but there is no venom in it. “So, you’re saying VR is ome kind of mind control?” He asks curiously.

Suddenly he hears his codec chime in his ear. He moves towards the other side of the room, moving his hand to his ear to answer the call. The colonel’s voice asks him what is happening and Raiden confirms that the Navy Seal team has been killed, except for one. He glances back at Pliskin, who he hears mumble quietly about nanomachines.

“Has he seen your face?”

“What?”

“This is a top secret mission, Raiden.” The Colonel chides. “No one can know we are involved.”

Raiden watches as Pliskin lights a cigarette. The man inhales deeply, then lazily breathes the smoke out in a slow, deliberate gesture. “A bit late for that.” He sighs, signing off.

Just another mistake.

Raiden looks up, watching Pliskin make his way down the stairs in the corner of the room. He furrows his brows and follows him. Boots clinking across the metal floor, he approaches the corpse Pliskin is standing in front of, his thick muscular arms crossed over his chest.

Pliskin gestures with the rifle. “Take a look at this.”

Raiden surveys the body and immediately notices what Pliskin was pointing out. “Wha-? A navy captain’s uniform?” He exclaims in confusion, turning to look at the stoic man beside him.

Pliskin says nothing.

_Was it just the lighting or did the man look incredibly pale?_

He lets out a quiet groan and begins to sway. He begins to fall, but Raiden reacts with lightning speed and grabs him before he hits the floor. The other man is bigger than him, taller and _way more muscular, goddamn,_ but Raiden manages to slowly lower him onto the bottom step nearby.

“Are you alright?” Raiden asks with genuine concern.

Pliskin rests his head against Raiden’s shoulder and takes a shuddering breath. The warm air breezes against Raiden’s ear and he shivers. Pliskin shifts, moving one of his hands to Raiden’s chest and pushes himself to sit up. Raiden’s eyes dart to the bloody bandage on the warm hand on his chest, then back up to Pliskin’s pale face. Pliskin pulls his hand back and digs around in his pocket, pulling out another cigarette. He lights it and takes a deep puff. Raiden stifles a cough as Pliskin exhales.

He is quiet for a while, then lets out a heavy sigh. He nods. “Must’ve lost a few more pints than I thought.”

Raiden watches him finish off the cigarette in silence.

“Do you know who that man was?”

Pliskin huffs. “That blood-sucking freak? That was Vamp… He’s Romanian. A wizard with knives, as you saw.”

Raiden looked at his feet. “He didn’t seem human.” He said quietly.

Pliskin hums. “Guarantee you’ll never see something like that in VR.”

Raiden rolls his eyes at that. “Who does he work for.”

Pliskin fishes out yet another cigarette. “Dead Cell. A terrorist organisation, a special forces unit created by the ex-president for simulations. They were meant to show VR troopers like you how to deal with the real thing.” He pauses, and Raiden turns to look at him. “They went rogue after an incident six months ago.”

“What happened?”

“The unit was devastated. Vamp is one of the only three left.”

Raiden nodded, taking note. “So why come after Big Shell?”

Pliskin narrowed his eyes and took another puff of his cigarette. _His third._ “How should I know? I told you they were lunatics.”

Raiden continued to press. “They say their leader is Solid Snake.”

Pliskin was silent again. Raiden continued to look at him, but Pliskin would not meet his eyes. Pliskin stubbed out his cigarette and turned to Raiden. “Snake died two years ago.”

“You mean the incident that made Big Shell-“

“That’s right, and it was Snake that sunk that tanker.”

“But he’s a legend!”

Pliskin narrowed his eyes. “Legends are bad news. There’s not a lot of difference between heroes and madmen.”

Raiden was quiet then. There was something in Pliskin’s voice, small, nearly undetectable, that he could not quite put his finger on.

“So,” he said softly. “Snake is dead.”

“And buried.” Pliskin added gruffly.

“What about the other soldiers? They have Russian equipment.” He continued.

“Probably mercenaries. It’s too much ground for just Dead Cell to hold on to.”

Raiden nodded.

Pliskin turned to face Raiden, cigarette resting lazily between his lips. “You weren’t briefed on any of this?” He quirked an eyebrow. “And you came in alone to boot? Why?”

Raiden shrugged, evading the question.

Pliskin pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, holding the smoking remnants between his thumb and forefinger. “Can’t tell me, huh?” He smirked, and Raiden felt the heat of a blush spread across his face. “That’s fine by me.” Pliskin offered Raiden the cigarette.

“I… don’t smoke.”

Pliskin grabbed the packet from belt pocket and pressed it into Raiden’s hand. “They might come in handy.” Pliskin’s fingers grazed lazily across the skin of Raiden’s wrist as he removed his hand to reach back into his pack. He pulled out a handgun and handed it to Raiden. “Take this as well.”

“You won’t need it?”

Pliskin gestured to the soldiers lying dead above them. “I’m sure I can find something just as useful.” He drawled.

Suddenly, a radio stuttered to life on one of the bodies, gunfire cutting through every few words. Raiden looked at the radio, then back to Pliskin, eyes wide. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

Pliskin scowled, reaching slowly for the radio on his shoulder. The transmission died as quickly as it had started. His hand hovered over the silent radio for a moment, then dropped back into his lap. Raiden pressed his lips into a thin line, watching as Pliskin’s head drooped.

“The BC connecting bridge.”

Raiden nodded. “Can you handle it?”

Pliskin sighed. “I’m… Gonna need a few more minutes.” He said sheepishly. Raiden smiled understandingly. Pliskin continued. “I’ll give you my frequency so we can keep in touch.” Raiden handed him his codec and Pliskin input the frequency.

Once he had finished, Raiden went to stand up but Pliskin grabbed his arm. Raiden sat back down and gave him a look. “I need to get moving.”

“What’s your name?”

“Oh.” Raiden felt himself blush again. He thought back to what the Colonel had said. How even Pliskin seeing his face was too much information for him to have. He sighed. There was just something about this guy. “Raiden. It’s Raiden.”

“Raiden?” Pliskin echoed. “Strange codename.”

Raiden stood up, shrugged at Pliskin, and once more began making his way up the stairs to leave. “Makes up for the boring name my parents gave me.”

He was by the door when he heard Pliskin say quietly, “Maybe I’ll find out the boring one someday.”

Raiden did not say that he hoped he did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my rule is i can't play any of mgs2 until i write in this to where im up to and its working to keep me uploading shit


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnng update but boring things are happening so im tryin to hurry this along

The heavy metal door slid shut quietly behind Raiden. He was about to continue out onto the catwalk when his codec chimed in his ear.

“Just checking in.” Rose called. “Did you want to save?”

Raiden confirmed, and was about to sign off when he had an idea.

“Hey Rose?”

“Yes?”

“This is a bit of a weird request, but…” Raiden grimaced, absentmindedly rubbing a hand over his hair. “Could you dig up some info on Solid Snake, just anything you can find really. Anything recent would be great.”

Rose hummed. “I’ll contact you if I find anything useful.”

Raiden opened his mouth to thank her but she had already signed off. He sighed. This mission sucks.

The rattle of gunfire dragged him back to reality. He could hear men yelling out on the catwalk. Moving slowly, gun outstretched, he steps quickly out on the catwalk and moves fluidly behind the nearest cover as bullets continue to fly. Ducking his head out, he watches as two soldiers continue to fire upon a woman standing outside the entrance of the central strut. The woman eyes the soldiers pitifully as their bullets continue to fly around her, never hitting their mark.

_What in the world…_

“Come!” The woman taunts sternly. “Put me out of my misery!”

The bullets continue to whizz past her without so much as scratching her. The soldiers curse. It is hard to hear over the roar of gunfire, but Raiden thinks he hears them call her Fortune. His eyes narrow as the man in the trenchcoat that attacked him earlier, Vamp, steps out from behind the woman and picks up the unconscious man at her feet. He turns to speak with her and leaves as quickly as he appeared.

“Don’t let them take the president!” One of the soldiers screams and Raiden jumps, startled, nearly giving away his position.

_Go!_

_He’s right there!_

_End this!_

More soldiers flood the gangway. One throws a dud grenade. They hesitate, and then begin to move in. Raiden continues to watch from his hiding place as the woman, Fortune, readies her weapon.

“Today is just another bad day.” She cries out as she aims the weapon. She releases the trigger. Energy crackles through the air as the projectile hits the group of soldiers, the force of the explosion sending any that survived the initial blast flying over the edge into the water below. Raiden grit his teeth as he saw that the connection to the central strut had been blown to pieces.

_No going that way now._

He watched as the woman continued to stand in the doorway, surveying the damage she had done. She continued to watch the seagulls circling effortlessly above them for some time before turning and following her compatriot back inside. Raiden waits, holding his breath. The salty sea breeze tussles his hair. The door remains shut.

He moves quickly over to the other side to Strut C, picking up a leftover chaff grenade on the way, and steps swiftly through the door. Silent darkness greets him. He pauses before continuing to move into the cafeteria. The bomb specialist who flew in with the Seal team should be here…

He flinches as the elderly man pops out from behind a bench. Stillman yells at him, panicked, when he hears that the soldiers are dead. He is erratic, and Raiden notices the wrench sitting on the bench next to his hand, and now the man just won’t stay still even with Raiden telling him to freeze, and Raiden has his gun trained on him, hands shaking, Stillman yelling-

“Wait! He’s not one of the bad guys.”

Raiden feels a hand on his shoulder and he whirls around, ready to fight. Pliskin catches his arm just before the butt of the pistol connects to his temple. Pliskin watches him as recognition flashes across Raiden’s face, closely followed by a sense of relief. Raiden’s eyes flit between the gloved hand grasping his wrist, _not tightly_ , and the dark eyes focussed on his face. They continue to stare at each other, as it takes a little while for the panic to settle and for Raiden’s breathing to return to normal. As the adrenaline begins to drain from his system, he begins to notice just how close he is to the other man. He breaks eye contact, eyes darting away. They wander down, and Raiden finds himself ogling Pliskin’s thick, muscled chest. Pliskin was still breathing heavily, chest heaving, and Raiden blushed at the thought of the muscles rippling beneath the layers of navy uniform. Feeling heat in his cheeks, his eyes flick back up, gazing stoically back at Pliskin through his soft, long lashes. Pliskin’s face softened and Raiden felt the blush bloom across his face. He grits his teeth, embarrassed, and looks away. He pulls his wrist from Pliskin’s grasp with a huff, masking his unease by checking the pistol over and shoving it back in the holster on his hip. He turns away, moving his hands to his cheeks and praying that heat fades quickly. He hears the gruff brogue of Pliskin’s voice reverberate around the room as the other man speaks to Stillman but cannot hear the words.

_What the fuck._

_What the FUCK._

_Pathetic._

Raiden closes his eyes and begins to count to ten.

“You can do that, kid.”

“W-what?” The words bring his attention back to the mission.

“Bomb disposal. You trained in VR for that didn’t you?” Pliskin pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. Stillman watched him, a concerned look on his face.

Raiden nodded solemnly. He could do that.

So off they went, with the elderly man speaking calm clear instructions through the radio. He had diffused one of the bombs when Rose called in.

“Is it nerve-wracking? Disarming all those bombs.”

Ignoring the nausea swirling around in his stomach, Raiden replied. “Not gonna lie, I have nearly thrown up about three times.”

Rose chuckled. “Hey, just-“

“Just try to ignore the fear, I know.” He whispered as he snuck quietly into the pump room. A quick survey revealed only three guards. “Besides, I’m not alone.”

Rose hummed in reply. The silence on the codec crackled awkwardly in his ear. Tranquilising the soldiers quickly, he cleared his throat. “I’m still trying to work out what’s so important about the date.”

She hummed again. “Keep thinking. You’ll remember.” She signed off with that enigmatic answer and he sighed. Their relationship certainly had not been built on good communication.

Raiden finally exits the strut. The salty sea air fills his nose, the sharp breeze whipping his hair into a frenzy. He makes for the stairs to the helipad, slowly putting one foot in front of the other as his eyes sweep for any signs of patrols. He hears a woman’s voice above him and moves to shield himself by the side of the stairs. He listens as she exchanges harsh words with a man over a radio. As soon as she has finished, he confronts her, calling for her surrender. The tall blonde woman smirks at him, her blue eyes narrowed sharply.

“You aren’t who I was expecting.”

He shoots a tranquiliser round but she launches into the air, twisting gracefully, and over the side of the strut. Raiden sprints up the stairs, taking two at a time, making to go after her. Reaching the top, he leans over the railing. Nothing but air. He huffs and reaches to make a call.

“What is it?”

He hears the clack of boots against the metal tiling and steps behind a storage tank. A lone patrolman. Raiden adjusts his grip on the pistol and fires another tranq round. The soldier’s body crumples heavily to the ground. “What do you know about the Russian woman?”

“That’s Olga Gurlokivich, daughter of the famed Soviet general of the same name. She’s the head of a mercenary group made up from soldiers who used to be in her father’s old unit. Dead Cell seem to have brought them on as extra security.” Pliskin’s words come through the codec as a murmur.

Raiden steps out from behind the tank and follows the sensor towards the Harrier jet sitting on the helipad. Moving to where the signal is strongest, he looks around before resting a hand on the side of the vehicle and leans down to look underneath. Spotting a familiar black box, he gets down on his hands and knees and crawls underneath, readying the freezing agent. While deploying the coolant spray, he asks Pliskin “Have you had a run-in with her before?”

The hiss of the spray fills the silence and the bomb’s light fades. He hears a metallic clunk and the rustle of fabric over the codec.

“Once.” Pliskin murmured. Sounds of a scuffle echo through Raiden’s earpiece, followed by heavy breathing. More silence, then Pliskin lets out a throaty chuckle that sends shivers down Raiden’s spine. “She’s not my idea of a date.”

Slinking back out from underneath the jet, Raiden hears the words leave his mouth before he even thinks them through. “What is your idea of a date, then?”

He freezes, a foot hovering in the air as he descends the stairs to go back inside. A particularly strong gust of wind blows his hair back in his face. He wishes it had blown him off the side and into the churning waves below.

Stillman suddenly chimed through the codec, calling them both. “Something’s fishy about these bombs.”

“What do you mean?” Raiden replied quickly.

“Pliskin, did you check out the bottom of Strut H?”

“I’m about to, hold o-“ The man let out a growl. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Raiden hissed, ducking into a locker at the sight of a few guards.

“The base of the strut is packed with C4.”

Stillman cursed. “If that strut goes out it’ll take the whole shell with it.”

“So what do we do?”

“Raiden,” Stillman said firmly, “You concentrate on finding the rest of those bombs. Pliskin and I will handle this.”

They signed off, leaving Raiden alone with his thoughts in the dark.

  _I’ve got a bad feeling about this…_


End file.
